


Here Will I Abide

by ArwenUndomiel



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenUndomiel/pseuds/ArwenUndomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The One Ring has been destroyed, the Kingdom of Gondor rebuilt with Elessar Telcontar as High King. Life is slowly beginning again. But when an arrow shot gone awry strikes a chord in the Heart of Gondor, what is truly to be at risk? Canon pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was written with my best friend. We roleplayed it out on Facebook (I played Arwen, he Aragorn and we alternated the other characters as need, I usually played Faramir however... I love that guy... off topic.) Anyway, he doesn't have an account here yet, but when he does I shall tag him as a co-author. This is also posted on Fanfiction.net and Many Paths to Tread. Apologies for any slight AU-ness, as we had no real indication what happened after or before really, they were crowned we are making it up. This is purely a work of fiction, written for enjoyment.
> 
> I hope you like it :)
> 
> We are also currently writing (we've been working on it for over a month now) a huge fanfic based on "The Call" by Regina Spektor. Look out for that one too :) 
> 
> Thank-you for putting up with my ramblings, go read :D

** Chapter 1: Sacrifices for Love **

 

Middle-Earth was saved. That was a phrase Aragorn, Son of Arathorn was not quite used to hearing - and no matter how many times he _had_ heard it in the past week, he did not quite believe it. Yes, Frodo Baggins had indeed done his duty, and had hence paid the price for it. Frodo was alive, but he would never be fully whole. Somehow, Aragorn had known the cost for the Hobbit as soon as he had set foot in the Prancing Pony just over a year beforehand.

Slipping out of the throne room, crowded with dignitaries from distant lands, the reluctant, new ruler of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor breathed a sigh of relief as he inhaled the fresh air. With a flicker of uncertainty, the grey orbs turned to the East, but of course there was nothing. There was...silence. And the silence was proof enough that Lord Sauron was gone.

But for him it wasn't over - no, for Elessar it was merely the beginning. "How can you be so sure I will not let this House fall into darkness once more?" his voice, reluctant and almost shy, breathed out. Hair - finally properly washed - blew across his face. His eyelids fluttered shut as wind danced lightly upon his cheeks, and he stood there for a moment in silence, simply enjoying the fact that he had nothing to fear.

That finally, everything was over. War was over. The days of peace had begun, and Aragorn was the herald. Whether he wanted to be or not.

Arwen Undomiel, "the Evenstar of her people," a people who were almost no more, happened to glance up and noticed her Lord slip from the room. She apologised to whichever dignitary she was currently speaking to, a Gondorian Lord or the other and followed her King outside. Silently, she stepped to his side and wormed her way under his arm. "Is something troubling you my love?" Arwen's voice was soft, so as not to disturb the silence of the evening.

Aragorn's ears pricked up as he heard the grand door creak open, and the light footsteps ensured it was his good friend Legolas Greenleaf - or his Queen-to-be, his one and true love, Arwen Undomiel. He turned with a smile as he heard the voice of the latter. "I suppose it seems that something must be," he returned, his arm resting upon her waist. "Instead, I think it is the lack of troubles that bothers me."

That made an odd sort of sense to the maiden and she smiled softly at his touch. "I find myself understanding that somewhat." Her tone was one of slight shock. She shook off the mood. "Why are you not inside celebrating?" This time her tone was gentle. She was not accusing him.

The King smiled briefly. "Too much has been lost, Arwen." Brief flashes of Boromir's death, that _hero's_ death, Frodo's sacrifice, _Haldir_... ran through his mind, his grief only magnified by how Gandalf and Lord Elrond would soon be departing for the Grey Havens. He knew Arwen's father's departure would be even worse for her, but he had raised Aragorn as his own son, ripe for kingship. His guidance would be gone. No longer would he feel strong, or wise. "Is it not wrong to enjoy a party?"

"We should snatch what happiness we can," was the Elf's answer. "I fear that our days soon will be filled with grief that shall pass but not in a timely way." She knew her father was leaving. Gandalf and Frodo too. She had offered him her own spot on the last ship to leave for the Undying Lands. It was the least she could have done for one so small whom had achieved so much for them and in doing so, suffered most grievously.

Aragorn's head tilted to the side. He knew what it was she had done, and how much it would mean for the Hobbit. "You have given him your place," he stated, his voice as gentle as the breeze that blew between them. "On the ship to Valinor." It wasn't a question - far from it. "I'm sorry your father has chosen to leave these shores."

She nodded anyway. "It is not your fault." She smiled at him, a little sadly. "How many times do I have to tell you that it was _my_ choice?"

His smile of relief faded to meet her saddened gaze. "I know how much it hurts to lose a parent, Arwen." The King's voice was barely audible as it was, and it quieted even more as he whispered something that sounded remarkably like " _U-Chebin estel anim_."

The Queen-to-be's eyebrows furrowed and she glanced at him sharply. "Why, Estel?" The childhood nickname slipped out unintentionally. "Why do you say such things?"

Aragorn had half a mind to look away, but he could not. This was his betrothed and his one and only love. "You know how young I was when my father was murdered. When my mother died..." He looked at her imploringly. "Simply because the kingdom is rejoicing for their freedom does not mean you cannot grieve."

"He is not lost. And mayhap we shall see each other again." This would not happen and she knew it but...she could hope, could she not? His soon-to-be wife sighed softly and leant her head on his shoulder. "We still have time."

His arm automatically reached for her waist, pulling her close and placing a gentle kiss to her temple. Brushing hair from her porcelain face, the King sighed. "Yes." His voice was gentle, not berating, but understanding. He, too, was losing those dear to him. Lord Elrond had raised him since he was merely a child. "Yes, we have time."

The almost-Queen nestled closer to her Lord's side. "We have time for grieving. Now is a time for rejoicing. Even Frodo is looking happier." The boy had still seemed as if he were troubled by a dark thought. This thought would cloud his mood for but a moment but then he would be more cheerful than he had been in months.

"Arwen..." he whispered, resting his chin upon her head. "You could have died." And that was the truth. Had Aragorn failed the quest, had the war been in vain, had Sauron won...Arwen herself would be dead. "You were set on the path to the Grey Havens." He turned his head down to look at her. "You did not leave. Why?"

"And so could you!" Her voice caught on a sob and she buried her face into his chest. "But if you had died then I would have had nothing to live for..." She managed to compose herself in order the answer his question, but without looking up.

"I saw something...whilst travelling the road to the Grey Havens. It is what caused me to turn back and wait." A smile, one that was mixed with sadness crept across her fair features, still hidden against his robe. "I think...I believe, I saw our son, Aragorn...he wore the Evenstar," as she said its name, she finally raised her hand and traced her fingers over the jewel hanging at his throat, the jewel that had once been hers. "It could have been no one else..."

The King's face paled even at the _thought_ of having a child with this woman he loved so. Strangely enough...he had never even considered that they would have children, or that they must if the kingship was to continue from his line. The last heir of Elendil, he remembered with an air of sadness. His father was gone. His grandfather, whom he had never known, was long gone. _This is foolishness, Elessar_ , he thought to himself angrily. _It is not time to grieve for long-ago losses.  
_  
But even through his troubling thoughts...Aragorn's face widened into a smile of disbelief. "A...are you quite sure?" he asked, and thought he wasn't sure...he could've sworn his voice was trembling. "Wearing this..." He reached his hand to his neck, placing his hand protectively over hers.

She sent him a look that clearly said " _would I have told you if I were not sure?_ " The King recoiled at the very glance. "Of course... you did not think we would not have at least one child did you?" Her tone was faintly incredulous. Of course they would have a son!

The corners of Elessar's mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to smile. But of course, Arwen brightened his days as no other had ever done. "I'm sorry to have offended you, my lady," he murmured, slightly tilting his head in her direction as to bow. "I find it hard to believe joyous news in recent times. Even with the glory of Minas Tirith remembered." And a proud smile spread across his face, finally. _His_ city and _his_ people.

"You did not offend me, my lord." She spread her skirts and curtsied slightly. She straightened and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "It will come in time, Elessar."

His skin tingled from the contact, even if it was simply under his robe. Her simple comforts meant so much to him, and he just wished someday he would be able to help her understand how much he truly loved her, how he fell more in love with her every moment he saw her, saw the light in her eyes. "I know," he said, his voice quiet. "I know, my dear Undomiel."

His soft tone sent a thrill of warmth spiralling through her veins. It always did. "Are you certain my lord?" Her tone was playful.

Aragorn snickered lightly, pleasing himself with the fact that he could see goosebumps rising on her arm, her shiver particularly evident. His grey eyes lit up and his smile widened as he leaned over to press his lips gently against hers. Nothing incriminating, lest her father discover them, but enough to prove he loved her. "Yes, I am certain." And maybe...it was the first time in his life he was sure of anything. The simple declaration, he hoped, would speak volumes to her, for he had never previously answered her directly.

A throat cleared behind them and Arwen started back, like a guilty Mortal maiden. " _Adar_!" Her cheeks coloured.

Aragorn leaped back - of course, that moment would be when Arwen's father would choose to appear. His face drained of all colour, and his eyes turned to the stone floor. "Lord Elrond."

The Eldar frowned slightly at the sight before him, shook his head at the two of them and walked away. Arwen was confused. Her father usually had something to say. Little did either of them know that the other elf had been hiding a smile. He was glad his daughter was happy.

Elessar raised a curious eyebrow - but he somehow understood. Lord Elrond had not wanted his daughter to marry a Ranger, one of the Dunadain. Now he was not merely a Man hidden in the shadows. He was a King. And therefore Lord Elrond would not stand in his way. It had been an unspoken agreement, one Arwen had not known.

Arwen was aware that _something_ had passed between her father and her lord. "Elessar?" She questioned softly. What were they hiding from her?

With a swish of his cloak, the once-great Elven lord disappeared into the darkness again. Aragorn turned and shook his head at the ages-old woman before him. He silently gathered her into his arms and rocked her tightly. "Never you mind."

She wanted to question him but... the feeling of his arms around her was comforting and she decided to let it go. "Would you care to re-join your guests, my lord?" She asked, after what felt like an age of simply holding each other.

The flicker of a smile passed over the King's face. Strider, Estel, Aragorn, and finally, _Elessar_. A Man that Lord Elrond could be proud of, a Man that he would surely allow his beloved daughter to wed. "I must linger here for a moment longer, Undomiel," he said, his voice gentle, and he hoped she would understand.

With a soft, understanding smile, the Queen-to-be kissed her Lord's cheek. "Do not linger too long my love, or the guards may worry that something has happened." One last feather-light caress to his cheek and she was gone, moving back into the warm light of the Hall. She paused a moment to speak with Frodo and Sam who had tired of the dancing and were sitting having a quiet drink in a corner.

Her father found her there and inquired if she may dance with him. She accepted with a smile, casting occasional glances towards the shadowed balcony where her King was still sequestered with his thoughts.

Aragorn smiled briefly as he squinted to see Arwen take her father's hand. He stood up straighter, his eyelids flickering shut as the wind blew through his neatly trimmed hair. The weight of the crown was heavy on his head, and he realised in the silence that the duty of a King was important. He must put aside the Ranger if he was to truly accept his destiny. He shivered involuntarily from the cold air, his grey irises opening again. He straightened his shoulders and swallowed his pride, heading back up the stairs into the throne room. Maybe it was alright to feel unsure. At least, maybe it was if he had friends, advisors... _Arwen_...by his side.

Arwen noticed his re-entry, how could she not? Her soul was bound to this Man; of course she would know where he was. Lord Elrond was aware of his daughter's straying attention and released her hand. "Go," was all he said. The Elf-maiden curtsied to her father and departed to stand at her lord's side. "Are you well?" Was all she asked, but that one question was laden with meaning.

As he saw her approach, a smile appeared on his thin, weary face, his grey orbs twinkling with cheerfulness. Maybe he wasn't whole inside - maybe he never would be, maybe he'd lost far too much for him to ever regain. But he knew Arwen would be there to help him through. "Yes," he said softly, tilting his crowned head forward. "Yes, I am quite well."

A bright smile crossed her features and she twined her fingers through his, bringing their joined hands to her lips to press a soft kiss to the back of his. "I am glad to hear that." Arwen gazed out across the room, watching the gaiety of the festivities. It was... uplifting to say the least. A flash of light reflecting on metal caught her eye and she paused. Elven sight easily pierced the gloom and her eyes widened. She spun towards the Man she loved and pushed him sideways.

The musicians jangled to a halt and in the ensuing silence the twang of a bowstring was clearly audible. The arrow, meant to end the new King's life had found a different target. In the Elf-maiden that had thwarted his goal. The arrow seemed to slow in the air as it flew towards the unprotected woman. She managed to twist so that, instead of piercing her heart, it buried itself in her shoulder instead. It felt, at first, as if she had been punched hard in the shoulder and noise receded, time blurred.

As if someone had suddenly righted the world, noise, light and time sped up to normal and she could feel the burning agony of the cold metal piercing her shoulder. The maiden bit her lip, hard, to stop for crying out in pain. Guards had already descended upon the corner where the assassin had been hiding and dragged the struggling and cursing Man from his place of secrecy. Arwen did not see what happened next as that pain finally overcame her strength of will and she crumpled, blood pooling around the wound and staining the pale blue silk of her gown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We know that Aragorn normally wouldn't have done certain things. Our only excuse is that he was shocked and scared. His beloved had been shot down right in front of him, you must forgive him for not thinking too clearly.

** Chapter 2: Please, Let Her Live **

 

Aragorn's senses tingled a second before he'd been shoved out of the way - he'd known, _felt_ like something was going to happen...but in the security of his own kingdom, this close, he'd not believed it possible... But before he had the chance to grasp her, to pull them both out of the way...the King felt his body being pushed to the side, and too late, he caught a glimpse of the sharp, glistening metal penetrate his beloved's heart.

The music had stopped - clearly they had noticed something had happened. The King's breath caught as the Elf-maiden collapsed to the ground, and he was at her side in an instant, not caring that he was getting blood on his tunic. Not caring that the party was watching. This was the woman he had committed to, this was the woman he loved, and he was _not_ going to let her die. And surely not because someone had wanted to kill him instead. He would _not_ let her take his place. He would never love another. Not in the way he loved her.

His breathing laboured, he bent over her, caressing her cheek as calmly as he could. Dismay filled his grey irises. _Why? Why must you have saved me, again?_ He choked on tears that were threatening to fall, and his fingers curled around the weapon. "I am truly sorry, this is going to hurt..." he whispered as he dug the arrow out of Arwen's shoulder. Blood flowed from the break in the skin, and he applied pressure to the wound. " _Athelas_!" he cried. "I need _athelas_!" There was no time to get her to the Houses of Healing.

A piercing cry escaped her lips as the arrow was yanked from her flesh. It seemed as if the only thing she could feel was pain. Pain...so much pain... It felt as if her arm and shoulder were afire. Dimly she heard someone shouting. Aragorn...Elessar was calling for aid. She tried to open her eyes, to reassure him that she was fine but darkness crept across her vision before she was able and dragged her down into the depths of unconsciousness.

The Steward of Gondor was directing the men in where to take the prisoner when he heard his King's agonized cry. He turned and found that his own beloved was already moving, hastening towards the Houses of Healing as fast as she were able. One of the Lady Arwen's brothers had also left the Hall, heading in the same direction. The Lady's father was at her side, doing his best to calm the Man to whom his daughter was betrothed. Was the Lady still alive? Faramir had not seen where the arrow had pierced flesh.

Èowyn and one of the twins returned at almost the exact moment, each carrying as much of the healing plant as they were able to hold. These were deposited near to the King and Faramir started towards his lord, to see what, if anything else, he could do to help.

Elessar noticed right away that Arwen's eyes flickered, and she tried to reach out to him...but of course the pain would be too much - especially for someone as unaware as war as his beloved. She wasn't unintelligent - of course, she was informed and wise - but she had never truly been in battle, never been pierced by an arrow...her skin was weak, easy to be penetrated... "You should not have tried to save me..." he whispered to her, even though he knew she would not be able to hear him.

Aragorn heard footsteps beside him, and looked up into the shocked, dismayed face of Lord Elrond. His eyes were wide, and he tried to convey a desperate apology as he continued to apply pressure to the wound. Arwen could not lose any more blood, or she would not survive. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Stay with me, _meleth_ ," he murmured desperately, "This must not be your fate."

Èowyn had merely just appeared when the King grasped the plant and carefully tended to the wound. He closed his eyes as he pressed a hand to her forehead. "Cold as ice..." he whispered. "Elladan, a hot towel." The order was directed at one of Arwen's brothers, surely he would comply. He inserted a leaf of the healing plant into the wound, pressing his hand against it once more. His large grey orbs didn't once move from her motionless figure.

Her brother disappeared just as a strangled gasp escaped his sister's lips. Her back arched in pain and her father had to hold her down to allow the King to continue his work. Tears were silently falling from the Eldar's eyes but he did as he could. Her other brother had hold of her hand and was murmuring softly in Elvish to the distressed Elf-maiden.

Gradually, she calmed and the other twin appeared with warm, damp towels, laying them across his sister's forehead with gentle touches. "Will she live?" The voice husky and rough, was from Faramir this time. The white-robed Shield-Maiden of Rohan by his side clasped his hand tightly; the other pressed to her lips, eyes wide and shocked.

Aragorn pressed the hot towels gently against Arwen's forehead, hoping the water would soothe her somewhat. He breathed heavily, his eyes unblinking as he held onto her hand tightly. He exchanged a glance with Elrohir, who said nothing, but nodded. His heart pounding far more than he was comfortable with, he inserted more of the kingsfoil into the wound. It was the only chance she had to live.

Maybe she would not survive, but the King would not allow himself to look into Lord Elrond's tears, or the dismayed faces of the dignitaries surrounding them. If he had it the way he wanted, no one would be around, except for him and a few trusted healers. Anything that could be done to make her survive, to heal her...anything...Elessar would do _anything_ to secure her safety. "Yes," he said shortly, watching with slight relief as she started to calm down. "She'll be fine."

By Elbereth, he hoped she would be fine.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the wound started to close over and the company, other than the King, gathered around the Queen-to-be heaved a collective sigh of relief. As if suddenly remembering that he were a Healer also, her father bowed his head and murmured ancient Elvish words of healing under his breath. Words to soothe and calm, to prevent infection... The twins, whilst not as strong natural Healers as their father, had picked up many things over the years and joined in. If nothing else the bonds of kinship would aid in their sister's recovery.

Still the maiden did not awake, but colour returned to cheeks sent ashen with pain and shock and her laboured breathing eased somewhat. If they chose to do so, she could be moved without fear of more harm befalling her. Èowyn, as if noticing the tight grasp she had upon Faramir's hand, loosened her grip somewhat. The Steward squeezed the Lady of Rohan's hand gently. "Do not be afeared Èowyn," the Lord murmured softly to his beloved. "The King has said she will survive and so she must."

It was almost as if the elder days had returned, and if the weight of the crown had not reminded him of his duty, it would have been likely that he wouldn't remember his position at all. Why he was being shot at. Why...why Arwen had jumped in front of the arrow as to save his life. He continued to run his hands along her forehead, using the cloth to clean the wound as to be sure that more harm would not come upon her.

"Why must you always try to save me, Undomiel?" he whispered his voice so low that only the twins and Lord Elrond would be able to hear. "My Tinuviel, it is not required of you." He closed his eyes and willed power to him, the power to heal. The power, he praised Elbereth, he had been gifted with as a child. He called the strength to him and closed his eyes, his hands on her forehead, her _cheeks_ , hopefully having some effect.

A soft exhalation escaped the maiden's lips and her eyes flickered open. She gazed up at the room of the Hall in confusion. Why was she lying down? A shaky hand raised and brushed weakly across her Lord's trimmed hair. "Wh-what?" She croaked, the only work she was able to utter before her strength failed her and she drifted out again.

This passing in and out of consciousness proceeded for the next couple of minutes before the Elven woman had gathered enough strength to hold her eyes open for more than a few seconds. "Elessar?" Her voice was a thready whisper. " _Adar_?" Her gaze roved around the company gathered around her form. They lingered on the Man at her side, a question in their clear depths.

Relief crossed the King's features as her eyes opened fully. He didn't blink, didn't break the connection. "Arwen..." he breathed out lightly, his voice husky and filled with something akin to grief. But of course, there was that lightness, that hint of relief that her time had not yet come. "Never frighten me like that again..." He knew his anger might take over later - she had no right to save his life, that arrow would not have slain him. He would have enough good sense for both of them.

A brief flicker of concern appeared in her gaze but she pushed it away. If he was angry later then he was angry later. She had learnt long ago that she could not stay his moods, only attempt to draw him from them. One trembling hand rose to her shoulder, gingerly exploring tender, new skin. "I...I do not recall...what has happened?" Her voice was stronger now, but still not more than a quiet murmur.

"An... assassin..." Aragorn felt his throat grow dry, and he blinked, finally. He took a heavy, shattering breath. "...aimed to kill me. Arwen, you shoved me out of the way...the arrow pierced your shoulder." He hated the fact that he even had to say the dreaded words. The arrow having pierced her, hurt him just as painfully, if not more so. But how would he be able to explain that to her? That was exactly it - he couldn't. There was no way she could understand.

"I was...injured?" She seemed shocked by this knowledge. "I..." How could she not recall being shot? "I do not...remember...this..."

"Arwen?" he asked uncertainly, his voice more concerned by the moment, and he turned to Lord Elrond, lost. How could she not remember? How was it all a blank slate? The redeeming factor for him was that, at least, she seemed to remember him, and at least remembered who she was. So it couldn't be _that_ bad. But...then, did she remember the war? Frodo, Sam? Everyone?

The voice of Lord Elrond intervened. "It is perhaps best if my daughter does not recall the event. Do not be afeared Aragorn, this is perfectly normal. The mind has many tricks with which to preserve itself and this is simply one of those. She may remember the event in time, but it will be at such a time that her mind feels she can best handle the memory. Be calm my son. All is well now."

The Elf paused in thought. "Mayhap it would be best if you took her somewhere she can rest and continue to heal?" It was a gentle order, thinly veiled as a suggestion.

Aragorn closed his eyes for a moment and nodded silently, recalling any sensation of calmness that he could retain. "Yes, my Lord." It was rather odd, he realised, to be referring to the Elf who raised him as a 'Lord' when in fact Elessar was the highest authority in the room, but maybe that was what would make him a great King of Men. Because he would never undermine lesser men, and would take everything they said into account when making decisions for the good of the kingdom. He smiled briefly at the Elven-king. "Thank you," he said, his voice quiet. He also nodded to the twins, neither young nor old, thanking them with a gaze.

The wounded woman's brothers nodded back and their father also acknowledge his foster son with a slight tilt of his head. "Rest well Arwen." The Lord Elrond laid a hand upon his daughter's brow. She smiled up at him briefly. "I shall Adar." Her clear, grey gaze shifted to her Lord and the smile shifted into a tiny smirk. "Am I to be walking there Elessar?" Her tone was teasing. She was clearly feeling a lot better than she had been mere minutes ago.

The watchers silently blessed the healing magic of the Elves and their King. All had grown fond of the Elven-maid with whom their Lord was to be wedded. Even Èowyn, who despite finding happiness with the Steward had still held some high affection for the King of Gondor, found that her heart was gladdened by the other woman's speedy recovery.

Aragorn chuckled lightly at her tease, still finding it a bit odd that she too would adapt to calling him by his kingly title and name, Elessar. His mind wandering, he wondered if she would ever again call him by the name she had once known him as - Estel. By far, it was still his favourite. Maybe that was bad - he should surely prefer the name given by his mother and father, Gilraen and Arathorn...yet, Estel was how he was raised, and it was always how he had thought of himself.

Because, and only now did he realise it - he was their Hope. Without him, the war would not have been won. Arwen had been right. He was Isildur's heir. Not Isildur himself. His blood did not carry that weakness; instead it held strength. It was blood that he would one day be honoured to pass on to an heir, an heir whom he could fully entrust with his kingdom...whenever his time came.

"Certainly not, my lady," he breathed out in relief as he slipped a hand to support her neck. "I do, however, need to know where you would prefer to rest."

"Wherever you will my Lord, I shall be content." Her lips parted in a genteel yawn and she almost fell asleep on the cold stone she was laid upon. "Please hurry."

The watchers chuckled softly and parted to let their King through, moving to spread the word that the attempted assassin had been captured and that their King's beloved was recovering.


End file.
